GATE: After the End
by OhHueHue
Summary: In the middle of the 20th century, the worst situation imaginable happens, nuclear war. The nations of the world destroy each other, leaving earth but a wasteland. Several centuries later, new nations rise in their place, becoming empires. Right when all seems good, tragedy strikes New Paris, driving one of the great empires to war with the lands beyond a mysterious gate...


The year was 2540, nearly 600 years after the nuclear holocaust. No one remembers why, or who caused the end of the world, just that it happened. Less than 100 years ago, humanity began appearing again, trying to rebuild what was lost. Deep in the frozen tundra of Russia, the spark of Socialism led to the great fire that was the Siberian Socialist Republic, ruling lands east of the Ural mountains with an iron fist.

To the west, in France and Spain, warlords all battled for power before one rose supreme, King Leopold I, and so he united the kingdoms under himself, the Peninsular Empire.

In Italy, after discovering ancient history books telling of stories about a massive empire, the Neo-Imperial Rome rose from the dust, hoarding the secrets of the past and using the knowledge to give themselves a technological edge.

Far in the east, Fascism found a new place to fester, to grow. So rose the Great Empire of Moor, named after her first Emperor, Emperor Moor I. They conquered all neighboring lands and discovered the secrets of flight once more.

In India, a peaceful people rose, relying on trade and commerce to survive. The Delhians, with their Free State of New Delhi.

The last empire was one that all others were wary of, much like their predecessors so many centuries ago, the Assyrians. No one knew much about them aside from they could not be trusted, every time they pressed forwards into neutral civilizations, the 'great five' would mobilize to push them back. However, they could never truly crush them, always escaping back to the hellish desert from which they came, residing until it seemed that the great civilizations could rest easy again.

*** December 1st, 2540, New Paris, Peninsular Empire ***

The great palace in which King Leopold III resided was built centuries ago, repaired shortly after the creation of the Empire. It served King and Queen, standing as a pinnacle of the great Empire. They were the first to get the great factories working once again, the first to begin using armored vehicles in warfare again, and were the first to rise from the ashes of so long ago and create an empire.

The army was one of the best trained in the world, drilled to perfection. Their uniforms were simple, white with knee high black boots and blue jackets with semi tall caps. The caps themselves had large, decorative plums coming from them. They had white pants, tucked into the boots, with interchangeable shirts for ranks. White was enlisted men, red were soldiers who outperformed their fellow men, and recognised justly. Blue shirts were under officers, put in charge of squads. Red shirts were middle officers, put in charge of several squads. They were the last rank to be directly involved in combat on a regular basis. The Yellow shirts were leading several battalions at once from afar, relaying orders from the black shirts, who were also known as the over officers, leading these massive forces. The last rank was the 'Generaux', wearing ornate uniforms with lots of blue and gold. They commanded the entire army. There were specialized units and uniforms used by the Peninsular Empire. Like the 'Launchers' as the men called them. They were black shirts with a yellow stripe down the center. They had a gun called the 'Tonnerre'. It was around the same size as the Lorraine, but with a handle ahead of a six canister ammo rack. It fired high explosive rounds mostly used on large enemy movements or buildings. There was also the cavalry, tankers, artillery and machine gun crews, all wearing specialized uniforms and/or armor.

The idea of the basis for the uniforms came from a book discovered some 50 years ago, showing the photo of one such soldier. It was called 'Napoleonic', the rest of whatever was being said lost to time. As such, the soldiers were called 'Napoleonics', armed with the standard issue Lorraine A-15. The actual name of the weapon was also unknown, but it had been found in a town called 'Lorraine' and became standard issue for the army. It had automatic, burst fire, and semi-auto options along with the ability to attach a bayonet. The gun was leagues ahead of the Neo-Imperial Rome, who used semi-auto bolt action rifles they called 'Carcano M1938 Carbine'. It was cheap, flimsy and normally worn down. The Lorraine A-15 was on the medium weight side of weapons, loaded by a magazine coming in from behind the trigger. The gun also had a rail along the top that made the gun clear from a distance away. The A-15 part came from it being the fifteenth Assault gun used the the Napoleonics.

It wasn't their small arms that gave the Peninsular Empire its might, however. It was their 'tanks', as they called them. Massive, metal machines capable of decimating the swordsmen of the Neo-Imperial Empire, and the Cossacks of the SSR. They were slow, but held a field artillery cannon capable of decimating enemy forces. It was called the LB - 90, Leopold Benniz, the first kind, and 90 being 2490, when the vehicle was given to the military. It had two guns, the field artillery only being on the front. The other was smaller, but more accurate and on a rotatable turret. It dealt of the gun emplacements of other armies, dealing with them simply and easily. Most who faced it simply called it the landship. It was slow, heavy and packed a punch.

With these tools, and the large pool of soldiers they had to use, the empire conquered all lands to the west, uniting its peoples under one banner.

When the original 'Paris' was found, most of its was already destroyed. The Peninsulars simply finished the job and built their own city, leaving a few buildings like the palace. So came to existence the great city of New France. A city of industry and artwork. It was peaceful, the 4th war with the Assyrians coming to an end just months earlier, and tensions coming back to the big five.

However, this fragile peace would be broken when New Paris was attacked.

*** Napoleonic Blue Shirt - Francis Benedict ***

"Hey, boss. The supplies came in, where do you want them?" Francis had his feet up on his window sill inside his private room. Blue Shirts and above in the city guard were given private rooms as to separate regulars from officers in a way of keeping the chain of command intact.

"What is it?" The officer queried, spinning his chair around to look at the man standing in his doorway. The soldier wore the regular white shirt, and carried a large crate with another man, dressed similarly.

"Ammo, boss." The man said, setting down the crate, much to the relief of the other man, whom was far smaller and not as physically daunting. Francis pried the crate open, as it already had been, and saw a large pile of assorted ammo round.

"Oh, fun. Heyder, get some men to sort this."

"You've got it, sir. Lackman, give me a hand with this!" The other soldier groaned, but helped lift the crate off of the ground.

"Oh ya, sir. Before I forget…" The other man, known as Lackman, groaned as he was forced to stop again.

"They wanted you to sign something to say that you did indeed receive the shipment."

"Got it, now get a move on before Lackman's arms fall off."

"Ah, crap. Sorry, forgot you were there, Lackman." Francis walked back to his desk, pulled his hat on, then walked out of the barracks. A man dressed in light grey watched the soldiers unloading his truck.

"You needed me to sign something?" Francis asked as he approached the man from behind. The worker turned, holding a pen in one hand, and a clipboard under another.

"Ah, you must be the officer. Yes, I just need you to sign this to say that you have received the shipment…"

"And this to say that the shipment was, indeed, what you expected…"

"And this to say that It was me that delivered it, I already wrote my name, so that doesn;t matter…"

"And this to say that you consent to the fact that what was delivered was for military purposes, if it was not, sign here…"

"And this to state that you are a member of the Peninsular military… Good, that should be all! Good day to you, sir."

"And you." Francis turned to his men, who were bringing in the last of the crates of ammo. With a content sigh, he walked back in.

"Heyder!"

"Aye?"

"Did you get someone on that ammo?"

"On it, sir! Top of my priorities!"

"Good, I'll be in my room, if I'm needed, come and get me!"

"Will do, sir!" Francis went back into his room, which had more or less become his room/office. He sat back in his office chair, turned back to the window. He swung his legs up, the leather boots coming to rest on the window sill once again.

It was another boring, hot summer day in the city, bugs buzzing about, children playing, and adults wandering, getting whatever tasks they needed to do, done. He had already sent some men out on patrol, finished his paperwork, inspected the armory.

And it was only 11:00 AM.

The Peninsular Empire was split into two regions, the 'Espania' region, which was where the Empire got its name. While the Empire had evolved from just the peninsula, it still kept the name. The other region, modern day France, was known as 'Fracia' by the natives. Francis had been born in the small town in the south of Espania. His father had been a cobbler, his mother, a government worker. In the Empire, both men and women could serve, the more guns in a war, the better. The empire relied on sheer overwhelming firepower, crushing their opponents with hails of deadly accurate shots and a storm of explosive shells.

Anyways, when Francis was born, he had a clear shot to the officer schools in the north, due to his mother's position in the government. His father, however, wanted him to carry on the family business of being a cobbler.

It is very obvious what any sane human being would pick, and so he went to military school. He was 22 when he got his Blue Shirt, 25 when he was assigned to the New Paris Security Bureau, or the NPSB. Every major city had their own, a network of several hundred soldiers working to protect each city.

That was a real special way of saying police.

It had been just Francis's luck to be stationed in the one city where nothing ever happened. Sure, there was the occasional robbery, but New Paris had nearly 4,500 active soldiers patrolling the streets, all well trained and well armed. The Lorraine was not distributed to the public as a 'self defence' weapon. The 'Pistolet' and Edward .45, a small handgun discovered by Edward Irons, were sold legally at most major arms stores.

Several heavy knocks came at the door to his room at around 12:05, making Francis wake up from his short nap.

"Eh.. What? Come in, come in…" He said, his voice full of drowsiness. The door opened, revealing the mountain of a man, Heyder.

"Hey, boss man, a pigeon just came in, red string."

"Oh boy, urgent, huh? What, a cat stuck in a tree?" Francis said in the most sarcastic manner he could muster. Heyder handed him the not. It was slightly crumpled. He opened it up, after untying the red string keeping it closed.

Mail in the empire was sent in the number of ways. Short ranges, pigeons were used. The animals were trained to understand locations in their local area, which was rather funny given the base intelligence of the species. For longer ranges, cars or horses would deliver messages.

Within the mailing system of pigeons, three types of string were used. White was for regular letters, normally sent between people for casual reasons. Blue was sued for business, military or less serious medical needs. Red was for urgent messages, something that required the immediate attention of the receiver.

The message read as so, or, at least, it's what Francis read to the best of his ability.

'EMERGENCY! PORCHE SQUARE, BRING ALL, ARMED!' The writing was sloppy and very poor, as if the person writing it had been in a hurry. Francis had to read it a few more times, just to make sure he didn't miss anything.

"Something the matter, sir?"

"... Heyder? What condition was the pigeon in when it arrived?"

"Ruffled, it seemed like someone manhandled it before letting it go, why, sir?" Francis stood up, pulling on his cap and grabbing his rifle from the side of his desk.

"Get the men ready, something is happening at Porche Square."

Porche Square was named after the second leader of the united Empire, King Porche I. He led the army through a conquest of Fracia, putting down several other smaller nations and bringing them into the folds of the Empire. As a sign of good faith, New Paris was made the capital of the empire, the former capital of a smaller nation. Proche named the square in front of the palace after himself, erecting a statue of their first ruler, Leopold I on a horse.

Francis's party ran down the full street, drawing the attention of a lot of people. It was rare to see a party of thirty some Napoleonics running down the street, armed with their rifles.

"What do you think it is, boss?" Heyder asked, not in the slightest bit breathless from their near 10 minutes job. Even carrying all his equipment and rifle, this was nothing more than a short run for him.

"Maybe SSR activists? Then again, that doesn't explain the urgency the not was written with." The crowd thinned out, leaving just a few people at the sides of the street.

Then a scream cut across their running. They all slowed to a stop, pedestrians also looking back. Several people tore down the street, running for their lives.

"Wonder what they're running from…" This question was answered immediately, several men on horseback going around the corner, following closely behind the escaping people.

"Whoa! Are those ours?!"

"No, that isn't our uniform!" Francis pulled back the lever on his rifle, officer training taking over at this point.

"What are you idiots doing?! Form up, fifteen in front, fifteen in the back." The men rushed into their positions, ensuring their own weapons were ready.

"Front, down on a knee!" He barked, in the front himself. They took a knee, the back line still standing.

"Present arms!" The soldier all held the weapons in front of them, awaiting the next order.

"Set semi!" They all switched their weapons from the safety option to semi-auto.

"Civilians are present, aim for the riders! Take aim!" The men lowered their rifles, taking a rider in their sights. Francis drew one of the front riders into his sights, who was about to cut down a young woman.

"Fire!" All the rifles loosed a round, taking a rider with it. Several of the unknown enemy soldiers fell from their horses, but many of the group still rode.

"Take aim!"

"Fire!" Even more went down. The civilians all went to the sides as the cavalry picked a new target, the magical people taking down their numbers.

"Civilians clear, both lines, weapons free!" A stream of fire followed, killing horse and man. The cavalry charge ended when the last horse collapsed to the ground under the accurate fire of the Napoleonics.

"Front line, stand!" The line rose to their feet.

"Move!" Francis barked, and they started running again, over the bodies of the fallen cavalry. They went around the corner, and they became witness to something they did not expect to see in the middle of the square. A massive door way faced them, opening to seemingly nothing but darkness.

"What the hell-"

"Several hostiles at the palace, look!" A couple hundred enemy soldiers, dressed in the same armor as the cavalry from before, were attempting to attack the great palace. The royal guard were putting up a valiant fight, machine gun fire raining down from the higher windows and the ground floor.

"We need to help them!"

"Squad, two lines of fifteen!" Francis barked again. They went through the motions again.

"Burst fire! Fire at will!" The machine guns jumped to life, tearing through what those invaders called armor. One of them toppled forwards, catching his neighbor's attention. The soldier pivoted, spotting the line of Peninsular Napoleonics. He yelled something, and a portion of the group charged the small group of fifteen. Francis cursed under his breath.

"Rapid fire, don't let them get close! Front line, ready grenades, throw on my signal!" The men in the front all laid down their rifles, pulled small, fist sized hand grenades. The got ready to pull the pins out.

"Steady…" Francis said, holding his own.

"Hold…" The enemy got closer and closer, the fifteen rifles barely slowing down their progress.

"Now!" The grenades flew into the enemy group, where they detonated.

"Front line, raise arms and begin firing!" Francis barked, pulling his rifle back into his hands and firing like their lives depended on it.

Because it did.

"Getting a little close, sir?" Heyder asked as he reloaded his Lorraine. Francis grit his teeth, grabbing for another magazine. He was out.

"I'm out, switching to handgun!" he pulled the handgun on his hip out, firing a few more rounds. More and more hostiles seemed to pile out of the mysterious gate, and thirty men armed with a few magazines of ammo were not going to last forever.

"Out!"

"Out!" Several more 'Out!'s later, and everyone had no ammo left.

"Squad, draw swords and fix bayonets! Prepare for hand-to-hand combat! Get to the palace as fast as possible!" All the men spread apart, drawing their own blades. The first line of invaders met them. Francis ran the front runner through with his officer's sword. He dragged it out quickly, parried another blow and gutted the second.

Heyder didn't need a sword, he grabbed one of the enemy soldiers, almost throwing him at several others. He simply beat them down with his bare hands.

Not all of their squad were good at fighting hand-to-hand, though, and met their own gruesome ends by the sword.

Francis rammed another man aside, now racing towards the palace. Half his men followed, the rest either cornered or dead. The ran around the side, making their way passed the pinned enemy and to a side door. Francis kicked it open, waving his men in.

"Move, move!" The remainder of his squad raced in, and he slammed it shut behind him.

The battle for New Paris ended a few hours later when the regular army arrived. The challenge was rounding up little groups of insurgents. The main gate was retaken and under constant surveillance by the King's Guard.

Following the battle, the King and his generals convened.

"My king, we should take the war to them, let them learn what happens when you face the Peninsular Empire!"

"No! We cannot march into a world we know nothing about, we must attempt diplomacy!"

"The time for diplomacy had passed, the invaded us without reason, without a clear justification! Such actions cannot be ignored!"

"Think of those lost, do you not want to avenge them?!"

"Don't pull that card, don't use the dead as a weapon!" King Leopold III only half listened to the bickering generals and political advisors. Instead, he looked out of the window at the back of the massive gate that sat in the middle of the square. Beyond that gate sat the lands where these invaders had come from, based on their weaponry, they were far behind the military capabilities of the Napoleonics, relying on archers and swordsmen. While nations like the Assyrians and Neo-Imperial Rome also used swordsmen, they also had artillery and guns, these people clear did not.

"General Clemens."

"Ah- Sir?"

"Prepare our armies, we are going on the offensive."

"Of course, king!" The argument ended there, his word was law, and would be done.

The Peninsular Army would be going to war.

 _ **So ends chapter one, what did you think? Was it good? Should i make a chapter specifically about the lore of the world, or just go on with the story and introduce things as I go?**_

 _ **Or if this world is completely boring and bland, call me out on it.**_

 _ **I kind of suck at this whole 'writing' thing.**_


End file.
